Wandering
Page 4
Fractured Reflections
Go over there.
No.
You want to.
And your point is?
Just go.
Never.
Fine. Read and go to sleep like you always do. See what happiness it brings you.
I know it brings none. I’m not an idiot. But it would never work. People don’t appreciate that we’re a bit of an enigma.
Yeah. So?
Stop talking to me.
She looked in the mirror, blinked, and turned off the light.
- - -
Mirror, mirror, tell me true,
How can I be me and you?
Why must I be one at all?
Why must I choose which does fall?
- - -
“You should’ve been there last night. Rob was asking about you.”
She couldn’t decide what tone was dominating Daisy’s voice. “I felt sick.”
A sigh on the other end of the phone preceded “Quit the lies. You’re fine.”
“Don’t pretend you know me.”
“Sorry. You’re right. I don’t.”
But she does know you.
After saying goodbye, they hung up.
She knows you’re afraid, she just doesn’t know why.
Good.
Stupid woman.
Maybe.
She looked at the phone but did not see it. A few minutes later, she stuck her tongue out at it and walked over to her bed. Climbing in was an appealing idea, though an impractical one. The rent would not pay itself. Too bad. Grabbing her camera, she left the apartment and hoped for a lucky day.
- - -
A choice less heavy than life or death,
But not one lacking in some depth.
So, why is it so hard to see,
What the choice is going to be?
- - -
The phone is ringing.
Sure is.
You’ll have to answer it sometime.
Perhaps.
Who is it that you’re really afraid of? You’ll never be safe from yourself.
Stating the obvious again?
Why shouldn’t I? You do it all the time.
For all the good it’s done me, eh?
And you refuse to remember what I’m trying to protect you from.
You can’t protect me. You’re just a shadow.
- - -
A door or a window,
Escape if you can,
The shadows will find you,
And reach for your hand.
- - -
Someone was knocking on her door. The only question was, why?
Maybe if I’m quiet they’ll go away. They’ll think I’m not here.
You know it’s her. And she won’t. She’s known you too long to fall for that trick.
The knocking hesitated for a few moments, giving brief hope, only to restart in a seemingly inevitable way.
She’s not going anywhere.
Damn.
She’ll start yelling soon. Do you want her to make a scene?
If I say I don’t know her, they’ll believe me, right?
Wrong. You have a young version of her face. Everyone who’s met you both knows you’re related somehow.
Damn.
“Sweetie, please let me in. I’m so sorry. I swear I didn’t mean for that to happen before when that… thing happened. Please, Triste. Just listen to what I have to say.”
“Mother, dearest, you left me for dead. So, please forgive me if I have no desire to see you. And no reason to believe you’re actually sorry. Go away.”
She’s crying.
She’s faking it.
And if she’s not?
Who cares?
What if she did mean it?
She didn’t.
So you say. But you’ve been wrong before. You were wrong about that other woman. The one with the flowing hair. Aimee.
How dare you speak of her.
And how dare you not. She was everything to us.
Everything and nothing.
Sometimes nothing can be everything.
Not when you have everything to lose.
We need to stop trying to be philosophers.
From somewhere, a disembodied giggle echoed.
- - -
Tears rain down,
And sorrow reigns,
Till the shadow,
Is cast into the sun.
- - -
Why does the sun have to be so bright? It makes all the pictures look weird.
After wandering around for over an hour trying to find a decent place to take pictures, she’d had enough. She sat down on a park bench and glared at the clear sky. Such intense light killed all the subtlety her pictures were famous for. Other people could find beauty in the light; she would keep trying to show everyone the beauty hidden in shadows.
I don’t want to go back yet.
But you have no love for the light of day.
Doesn’t everyone say that sunlight is good for the soul?
You don’t care what everyone says.
True. But a few more minutes won’t hurt me.
Maybe you’ll get sunburned.
Pain is nothing. Besides, without pain, happiness can’t truly be appreciated.
And how would you know?
Her hands brushed over the contours of the camera. It was obviously high-end and was the most expensive thing she owned. When it stayed at the apartment, it was kept in a nondescript bag with all the other things vital to her existence. Though selling her pictures paid the rent and bought food, that isn’t what made the camera valuable. The fancy object that kept her alive was, ironically, a gift from Aimee. Perhaps it was her last effort to keep her alive. It was possible that she knew she would have to leave and so she left a token, a reminder of her presence. And, unsurprisingly, the first picture Triste had taken had been of her, with her long hair dancing on a breeze. Sometimes she considered throwing it into a pond or lake just to get it away from her. She had never been capable of doing that. Besides, she needed it to live. The last couple years she had tried to find her but no clue had substance and no memory had helped. There was no possible way to guess where she might have gone.
- - -
Lost in a void,
Regret echoes ‘round,
Though she looks for her heart,
It is not to be found.
- - -
She couldn’t see anything when she opened her eyes. There was no way to know what had forced her to consciousness. Like always, she couldn’t fall back to sleep right away. Sleep was an easy out. It helped muffle the memories. Not all nightmares had to be remembered. After reflecting on why sleep was the most appealing thing in her life, she began to drag herself down memory lane. She was terrified to forget what had happened with Aimee. Her face was engraved in her mind. Maybe she had earned this pain by treating her mother so poorly.
Do you remember what she said? As long as you think you deserve only pain tonight.
Aimee said that she’d do anything for me. That she loved me. That it was her sole desire to keep me safe.
And what happened?
She couldn’t protect me. Then she left.
Did she try to?
Yes. But she couldn’t deal with it. When she failed to help me, she had to leave.
Her love was true, whatever kind of love it was.
So you say.
You know the truth.
I don’t want to talk about this anymore.
Go back to sleep then.
- - -
I sleep to escape,
From everything.
I hope my dreams,
Do not take wing.
- - -
She’s back.
A groan could be heard. Long and seemingly painful.
Don’t fool yourself. You knew she wasn’t going to let us be.
An obnoxious series of knocks echoed through the room.
“Triste, open the door.”
Sh
e had never wanted to hear that man’s voice again.
Not good. Get out.
“What do you want?”
Don’t talk to him, you idiot!
What if he actually has something worth hearing?
He never has before.
But we haven’t talked to him in almost four years.
“I want to talk to you. Even just see you. That’d be enough.”
His tone made her hands twitch. “I don’t want to see you. Go away.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“How did you even find me?”
“Your mom told me.”
Damn her. She really wasn’t sorry.
But we already knew that.
I know. I just didn’t want to move again.
The fire escape.
His knocking refused to stop. She could imagine him pounding on her rather than the thick wooden door. Tears leaked from somewhere.
“I’ll call the police.”
“No, you won’t.”
Run away.
Yeah, we’d better. We’ll talk to the landlord tomorrow.
I wish we didn’t have to.
Me neither.
The knocking picked up another notch.
Grab the bag. It’s time to go.
- - -
The monster in the closet,
A specter of night,
Sometimes they are real,
And you must fight for your life.
- - -
What if he knew where she is? We’ve been trying to figure out for so long.
How would he know?
He has access to resources that we don’t.
He doesn’t care if we find her. It’s nothing to him. He’d probably prefer if we didn’t find her. Maybe he thinks if we don’t then we’ll go back to where he is.
And Mom?
After telling him exactly where to find us, I won’t forgive her. All I wanted was to be safe. But apparently that doesn’t matter to her.
Maybe --
Don’t bother trying to defend her. We both know she’s crossed too many lines to be trusted anymore. She doesn’t have our cell phone number so she can’t call us or give our number to that man. If we feel like it, we could call her from a payphone in few weeks.
Yeah, that’s true enough. And we definitely can’t tell her where we live now. It’s good that our landlord owned another building and felt mercy toward us. He even helped us pack. Wasn’t that nice?
I think it’s a bad sign if we’re surprised when someone’s nice to us.
He doesn’t even know I’m here and he was still nice.
Why should he differentiate? We are the same person; we’re just comfortable talking to ourselves. An act that most people would consider crazy.
If he knew I was here, he wouldn’t be nice to you anymore. He’d run away, just like everyone else.
We don’t need them. We never have needed them. We do fine on our own.
Sure we do. Until that man comes and we have absolutely no one to call for help. All we could do was run away and hope he didn’t catch us.
Can we not think about him? That could’ve been worse than what happened before when my family fell apart. He sounded so mad right before we ran…
Ok. We’re not going to think about it anymore. Let’s just try to sleep some more.
Music enfolded her and she focused on it so she could ignore her own thoughts.
- - -
Drowning in darkness,
Always betrayed,
And everyone wonders,
Why she’s always afraid.
- - -
Find someone. Do something.
I don’t want to.
You never do.
You make it sound like I enjoy being this way. I don’t. I never have.
And yet you’ve never tried to change.
I can’t.
You won’t.
Same difference.
Call someone. Go somewhere.
No.
Do it.
I can’t.
Go!
She started pacing.
What are you waiting for? Do you want to die alone?
“Shut up!”
A silence fell around and within her.
What good could come of it? It wouldn’t change anything. But maybe she’s right. What if she’s not? What do we have to lose?
“Hey, Daisy. You busy tonight?”
“I’m going to Rob’s place. He’s throwing a party.”
“Can I come with?”
There was the briefest of pauses before she replied, “Sure, I’ll give you directions.”
- - -
Open a window,
Breathe in the air,
After long stifled years,
She can start to care.
- - -
She was walking by the waterfall, pausing every once in a while to take a picture. It was another sunny day but she didn’t mind. The years of isolation still made her cautious of crowds, which is why she chose to photograph the waterfall and the surrounding area on a colder day. After being there for a few hours, she decided to head home. Climbing the stairs away from the falls, she thought she felt her phone vibrate but she ignored it and kept going. Exhausted at the top of the stairs, she collapsed on a bench. Though she didn’t believe that anyone worth talking to would call her, she checked her phone. She felt her face twist in odd ways when she saw that she had a new text message from an unknown number. Skimming the contents, she hesitated before closing her phone and reread it.
It can’t be.
But it sounds like her.
What are you going to reply with?
She read it again.
“Hey, Triste. I miss you. Will you meet me where we met before? If you will, be sure to bring your purple galoshes.”
A decision was far from her, so she closed the phone to give herself time to think.
- - -
Hide and seek,
Seek and find,
That nothing’s wrong,
With your mind.
- - -
You have to answer it.
I know I do, but I don’t know what to say. It’s my fault she left.
But she’s back. She misses you.
So she says.
So she does.
What changed? Why did she come back now after I’ve been wallowing in bitterness for years?
Don’t exaggerate, you melodramatic, self-absorbed --
Hey! I get it. I know.
Maybe she needs us as much as we need her.
Maybe.
Her phone vibrated then and after jumping half way out of her chair, she relaxed enough to sit back down. Pulling her phone out of her pocket, she flipped it open to reveal the same text she’d gotten yesterday with a short something added on.
“Please at least let me know you’re alive.”
You have to say something.
I am. Relax. “I’ll bring my purple galoshes if you bring your rainbow umbrella.”
It was a few hours until there was any reply. “Do you still have your parrot? I’ll see you Saturday at 5.”
“My parrot is as colorful as ever. I’ll see you then, mon Aimee.”
- - -
The wait was so long,
And the road was so hard.
There’s no way to know,
What’s on Fate’s next card.
- - -
You know, this is actually oddly fun for me. For one time in your existence, you’re actually more nervous than I am. Just stop using my muscles to do your twitching.
I’m glad you’re enjoying this. Aren’t you the one whose supposed to be cynical, asking me what all could go wrong?
I could, I suppose, but I don’t see the necessity. Would it make you feel better if I did?
Maybe.
Too bad. Now, be quiet. I have to finish doing my hair.
You act like all this fussing is going to change something. She still left.
>
No one should be expected to deal with that. He could’ve hurt her too. She had to leave.
Now she’s back and you’re going for the cutesy sundress with curls look? What makes you think…
Shut up. We have to leave or we’ll be late.
She walked down the stairs and outside her apartment building, heading for the bus stop that was three blocks away. The wait was blissfully short. Though she wasn’t afraid to go, her hands still twitched and her legs were reluctant. Sitting on a bus full of strangers had always made her a bit apprehensive, but this trip was worth it. After riding buses all around town for an hour or so, she finally got to where she was going. It was a tiny beach that no one really knew about. In reality, the sand of the beach was more like gravel. Thankfully the water was as clear and blue as it always had been. A huge umbrella with swirled rainbows on it stood halfway between the road and the water. Aimee had apparently gone for the “cutesy sundress” look as well, which probably comforted both of them. They still thought alike. As Triste walked over to her, as opposed to the running she wanted to do, Aimee moved toward her. Both of them smiled at the other and sat down under the umbrella, watching the waves.